


morii.

by XelSaji



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Light Angst, Night Raven College (Twisted-Wonderland), One Shot, One-Shot, Ramshackle Dorm, Short One Shot, lowkey character sketch of mr draconia, no comfort lmao, of something :)?, preview maybe :)?, well lowkey comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XelSaji/pseuds/XelSaji
Summary: Set before Yuu arrived in Twisted Wonderland, second-year Diasomnia student Malleus Draconia seeks solitude in the abandoned property behind the Moores. What he finds there is contentment—and unexpected reminiscence.
Kudos: 13





	morii.

**Author's Note:**

> A very short one-shot, counted 2555 words in MS document. Sort of a character study of Malleus Draconia's past, perhaps? It is set in his perspective. After all, _how would three ghosts know what it is like to have a family?_

The reverie of the past soothed his soul. The quiet, gentle, albeit dark air, is a silken blanket that beckoned him to comfort. The sound of heels clacking on the marble floors idly resembles his beating heart and thrumming of notes inside his head. Distant and lingering.

No one is awake at this time, not when the clock has struck at midnight, and the clouds rolled in the inky night sky, obscuring the moon’s reflecting bright light. Still, he had caught a sliver of mangata when he crossed the hallway, observing the ripples that disturbed the image from out the window. When the clouds parted, and the moonlight spilled unto the window, it washed unto his marble-like features. On the bridge of his nose, on the bones of his cheeks, on the curves of his horns—how elegant. How beautiful. How mysterious. 

How lonely. 

And such loneliness seeks the comfort of solitude, especially when it is overwhelmed by the presence of unknown companies. A sense of control. A quiet place where you can wander in and find that your thoughts are your allies. 

The ripple of the mirror slid across his skin. It was cold, like a plunge in the river, where most of the waters had been gelatinized and you can barely feel its pierce. He held his breath and let go once he felt the cool blow of the midnight air. The moon is high above. He raised his head to the sky, lips parting in contentment, as the stars— _billions upon billions_ —twinkled down at him. The trees that were stripped off their leaves shivered. Their branches waved at the passing prince, and the soft soil crunched under his heels squeaked in greeting. He stopped right by the rickety gate. It barely reaches his mid-section. Moss decorated the stone walls and rust had made the gates creak. He looked ahead of the boundary. A house—manor perhaps? —hidden under the cloak of darkness, the willow trees its backdrop, giving it a grimmer appearance than it should. Not even the moonlight dare shone upon the ramshackle house, as if afraid of the gnarly branches of its avenue would grasp upon its light, and the willow trees from behind it will outstretch its flowing leaves, pulling the moonlight down and down like a blackhole. 

There are no lights inside the ramshackle house. No lights outside its broken lanterns. No lights by the gates. 

Malleus Draconia pushed the rickety gate and closed it. 

The field itself is abandoned, and Malleus could thank the dark Moores that stretches at the east end of the place, separating it from the back of the school. He had heard the mutterings of his fellow peers about an abandoned ramshackle hidden behind the Moores. He took a Mirror trip of course, for convenience sake, but to also avoid getting reprimanded by the Headmaster. It is engraved in stone that no one shall cross the boundaries of the Moores. Rumors of curses arose, varying from getting lead astray by a wolf or driven to madness by ghosts. 

This is campfire stories for the students at Night Raven College. For Malleus, it is escapism. 

He had found comfort in strolling through the courtyard of the abandoned property. The quiet lamentations of the wind were as gentle as the lullaby in a child’s bedroom. Malleus finds more in touch with himself in the place. No curse nor malevolent ghosts had come to disturb him. If there were ghosts, perhaps they kept distance because of his already towering silhouette. Or, perhaps, they had come to ask for company, and have an ear to listen to their woes.

Malleus’ stroll only lasted for about ten minutes. He was trying to measure the courtyard with wide strides. For what reason is only known to him. Soon he heard the jingle of distant bells inside the house. No lights illuminated the foggy windows, but Malleus need not a hint to know that someone is inside. 

When he entered the house, the door nearly flew out of its hinges. There was a large bang with the door colliding with the wall for it would not budge the first time. Malleus winced at the impact, squinting at the dust that flew. He looked past the hallway of the foyer only to be met with darkness. The darkness stretched for longer that at any time something will jump out. 

Luckily, Malleus was used to the darkness, and it was nothing more than one of his friends. He entered the house. A few rickety steps in and the door creaked with a loud shut. Locked, Malleus assumed, not even needing to look back. He went to the living room—well what looks like the living room—and took in its gloomy appearance. Cold, dusty, weary. One would say that someone had died in here from the number of questionable stains on the ripped-out floorboards. Not a single light in the dark. What could have prepared the young prince of the coming danger? Any person of the sort would screech and flea at the sudden hand that gripped their shoulder. The cold, dreadful feeling, climbing like spiders on their backs.

Malleus, naturally, gave the cold hand a pat. 

He then proceeded to yank the hand forward, tossing the now corporeal body of a stout ghost across the living room. Dust and particles flew about as the floorboards creaked with the supernatural weight. Voices behind him shouted in shock which he could only respond nonchalantly to with a dip of his chin. Malleus dusted his hands before offering them to the ghost who laid flat on the floor. “Apologies,” he said, pulling the stout ghost back up. His hat had tilted to the side, and his eyes wildly spun around in its sockets before slowly settling back to normal. _“Whooooo-hee!”_ The stout ghost exclaimed, setting his hat upright on his head. Despite getting thrown across the room like a javelin he maintained the huge grin on his face. _“Well, I oughta! Your throw has been getting quite good!”_ Joined by his two companions, they lifted their hats off their heads and bowed deeply at Malleus’ feet, in a way that he knows that they are just playing. _“Our liege!”_

_“Oh, gracious Draconia!”_

_“Oh, ever mysterious, ever dark, ever glo~ ri~ ous~ Draconia!”_

Malleus rolled his eyes at their hollering. Their laughter bounced off the walls and down the dark hallways of the house. No wonder rumors about malevolent ghosts are circulating the campus. Malleus finds the glee in their voice. However, the feedback of the house’s acoustic proves bone-rattling. It was not the first time these three ghosts had tried to scare him. It was not the first time either, that they allowed Malleus to sit down on the tarped-and-dusted couch. The ghosts treated him as an equal. Nothing in their actions showed rigidness or even nervousness. They were themselves, full of banter and tricks up their ghastly sleeves. If Malleus came here for solitude, why bother playing around with the ghosts? 

It was not like Malleus is all cold. He is not always distant. He knew the feeling of loneliness all too well, and for the ghosts to be alone in this house struck something inside him. Sure, they were used to this quiet, ramshackle place, but the first time Malleus met them, the need for the company was clear as day in their creepy moans. 

_“It’s been a while since we had visitors!”_ was what they said. And they meant it as a playful threat. However, Malleus knew it was more than a threat of pulling unsuspecting visitors down to Hell. 

Was it pity? Probably. Though, Malleus prefers calling it sympathy. He could not quite shake off the events from before that led him to this rarity routine (coming inside the house, that is). One, was when he had successfully knocked the ghosts out in their first meeting, and their eyes nearly bulged out from their sockets. He saw the way their lips quivered. The lankier ghost had to yank his hat down further for he could not stop shaking. They expressed familiarity— _expressive_ familiarity—like those relatives you are sure you have not met but they embrace you as if you had died from before. 

And two, was Halloween when he had visited the ghosts to give them an offering for letting him wander about the property.

Malleus had expected the ghosts to be out to (perhaps) scare some folks because that is what the ghosts back in the College were doing. He expected wrong. It was the first time he saw lights filled the broken lanterns. The soft orange glow behind the foggy windows, almost as if they were droopy eyes of a large beast. When he had entered the ramshackle house, he found candles floating idly in one space, illuminating the hallways and rooms. Malleus found the ghosts seated in the living room, huddled together, and in front of a peculiar human device. The telly, from what he remembered Lilia called it. Or at least resembled a telly. It was a huge rectangular box, dusting, and molding from the sides. He was sure termites had already bitten off at its bottom, most likely affecting the wires, but for whatever reason, the musty screen framed by ivory wood is still working. Well, despite the static and buffering images moving on the screen. 

That was the first thing he noticed. The second thing was the huddled ghosts bearing melancholic expressions. Their usual mischievous grin fell into a frown. Their eyes were droopier than usual yet focused onto the animatic moving in the small screen. The sounds were garbled, distorted, that Malleus had to focus hard to understand what they were watching. He caught the words _“happy Spook’s Holiday!”_ and _“one big family”_ in stammering speeches. Sitting down a meter away from the ghost pile, he observed the figures in the animatic. The scene looked familiar, yet he could not grasp the thought of its origin. Not even if he thought hard enough. Eventually, despite the tears and static, he realized it was on a loop. The ghosts had not made a move for they continued to watch the motion picture with useless hope in their eyes.

_“They were the happiest kids in school, y’see,”_ the shorter of the three mumbled loud enough for Malleus to stop picking at the candies in his bag. _“Always smilin’. Always yapperin’. They were always fun to play with.”_

Malleus looked at the screen again. The images had frozen. The video tore from top and bottom, and static appeared in quick flashes. The audio seemed to have frozen as well, playing nothing but a white noise of static. The ghosts did not do anything to fix it. They continued to stare at the screen displaying a group of people smiling at the camera. Malleus found himself fixated. He could almost hear them laughing joyfully with loud instrumental celebrations. 

He could almost see the ramshackle house turning into a home. When he gazed at the dimly lit hallways, he could see the candles being replaced by actual lights. The cobwebs were gone and the dust cleaned. The wallpaper would not be peeling, and the floorboards would have proper maintenance. Malleus could see twenty, or fifty students, walking about the place. First years, second years, third years…he could see all of them with their smiles on their faces. He could almost hear them laughing and talking with each other, the ghosts joining in to create another round of mischief that became a normal occurrence in this humble home. 

The hallways dimmed again as Malleus turned his attention back to the telly. The frozen image felt so distant. 

_“You remember them, don’tcha, Mal?”_ the lankier of the three asked, voice nearly cracking in desperation. Malleus looked back and forth at the ghosts then the frozen image on the telly. He swallowed the lump down his throat as his mind came up blank. “No,” he answered. And although this was the truth, he could not help but feel the bitterness at the tip of his tongue. Guilt started to tug at his heart when the lanky ghost sniffled, pulling his coat up to his nose to sob. _“’Course ya don’t…no one does…no one but us.”_

Malleus pursed his lips. He did not mean to make him cry. He felt like he had said something wrong, or worst of all intruding. The stout ghost and the shorter ghost all placed their hands around the lankier ghost’s shoulders. Tears fell from their eyes and Malleus shrunk further away from them. _“You’d like them,”_ the stout ghost nodded to Malleus, though his eyes were far away. Alive with emotions. _“You’d like them a lot.”_

Malleus hummed. 

_“If you remembered…if you met them, you’d love these kids. Never discriminated. Never left anyone behind.”_

In the silence of the night, in the dimly lit house, covered in the shroud of darkness, a memory unbeknownst to him had been buried. So, Malleus stayed a little while, not because he knew what it is like to be lonely, but to stay in the reverie of a forgotten past. 

“Did someone die?” 

His fingers stopped moving across the keys. Malleus looks up from the piano and meets the elder fae’s gaze. An impish smile crept along Lilia’s lips as he laid his cheek on his arm. “Pardon, I judged the tone. A lullaby then?”

“You wrote it,” Malleus informed, looking back at the music sheet to study it once more. He peered at the notes for a moment and then deduced that Lilia would not leave him alone, so he closed the lid of the piano instead. The elder fae’s gleaming magenta eyes were mischievous. Malleus knew that look all too well. He better segues out of this before Lilia comes up with a silly conclusion. 

“You wrote this for someone, did you not?” Malleus questioned with a bit of investigation. Lilia hummed, lifting his head from his arm, and tapping a finger to his chin. His nightgown makes him look like a mourning widow under the moonlight. “That depends,” Lilia answered, a smile on his lips. “Did I write it for someone, or did I not? Music reaches the soul that needs it, my dear Malleus. It depends on the listener how they perceive it.” 

That makes sense, Malleus thought, but what of the essence? When he was playing, the music reached into his soul. A deep largo, leading him down a strange path that he had not taken before, yet felt dumbstruck at the déjà vu. Lilia had composed his own rendition of the _“Grande valse Villageoise”_ with lyrics that are far too personal for it to not be for someone. Malleus knew Lilia. He knew him enough to not press further unto the matter and let it go. 

“Come now, bedtime,” Lilia cooed, pulling Malleus up by the hand and leading him to his quarters as they used to when he was young. It made him pout but he knew better than to oppose the elder fae’s antics. Settling unto his bed, Malleus gazed out the open window, and his mind began to wonder. 

Wondered exactly at the memory that flew too quickly out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fanfiction :) I hope you enjoyed it.  
>  _When it Rains, it Pours_ will be updated later. Stay tuned for that.   
> I'm also doing TWSTOBer by raven-at-the-writing-desk and will be posting my work in   
> IG: https://www.instagram.com/rl.sorbito/


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